


The Choice of Agony

by TrashCandy



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Asphyxiation, BDSM, Body Worship, F/F, Impact Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashCandy/pseuds/TrashCandy
Summary: The Grave Robber kneels at the Musketeer's feet, having never felt so powerless, so vulnerable, so enthralled.





	The Choice of Agony

**Author's Note:**

> I am alarmed at the small number of femslash stories and complete lack of Musketeer stories in this fandom.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“You'll do.”

The woman's words come so bluntly that Elyse nearly coughs up her ale. Forgetting the rest of the tavern patrons, she turns her attention to the well-dressed Musketeer standing in front of her. Pristinely brushed black leather boots, with cuffs ending just above the finely engraved plates covering each knee. Thick brown trousers and a frilled white blouse, mostly covered by a regal burgundy vest and fine charcoal cloak. A large white plume sticks out from beneath the blood-red band on her black hat.

“Sorry...” Elyse clears her throat. “I'll _do_?”

Annette merely curls up one corner of her mouth in a mysterious smirk. “Did I stutter?”

Elyse narrows her eyes, then glances around the room uncertainly. She would swear this was some sort of gag, but she's never known Annette to socialize much with the rest of the hamlet. Even the heiress, it seemed, was unworthy of Annette's time. Elyse studies Annette's hawkish gaze, trying to tease out just how she caught her attention.

“Come along, then,” Annette says, and without so much as allowing Elyse a response, turns on her heel and walks to the door.

Elyse stays sat in her chair, momentarily confused into inaction as she watches Annette toss a small bag of coins on the bar, without dignifying the bartender with even a cursory glance. She waits for Annette to realize she isn't following her, waits for even a look over the shoulder, but it never comes. Annette is out the door and out of sight.

Elyse bites her lip, tapping her heel on the floor. That brazen, self-assured attitude has her curiosity piqued. Her mind made up, she springs out of her chair, tossing her tab on the counter beside Annette's as she bolts out the door and hurries down the cobblestone road to catch up to Annette, who is striding down the street with purpose.

“About time you came to your senses,” Annette says, still not offering a glance backward. Before Elyse can catch up and fall in step beside her, Annette puts a gloved hand out to the side. “Stay behind me.”

Smirking, Elyse lets her eyes trail from the loose bun just under the brim of Annette's hat, down along the fine-stitched cloak draped over her shoulders, to the seat of her well-fitted pants. “As you like.”

The street winds uphill, toward the edge of the hamlet. Annette leads Elyse to the front door of the second-highest house on the hill, just out of the shadow of the heiress's home at the summit. Elyse had always presumed this house to be empty, though she can't be surprised that Annette chose to live well outside the town square. Only fitting she would live where she could look down on the rest of the hamlet.

The door creaks open. Annette steps inside, and Elyse follows suit, closing the door behind her, looking around the foyer. She recognizes some of the worn and tattered portraits on the wall to the left, mostly from forays into the ruined manor. To the right stands a hefty oak display case, adorned with massive trophies and medals, as well as a pair of crossed rifles. Annette has clearly started to make herself at home. Though, looking up and noting the dust and spiderwebs on the chandelier, she hasn't had the time to attend to the finer details. Or, as Elyse suspects, she hasn't had the time to hire somebody to do so.

“Well then.” Elyse turns to Annette, suddenly noticing she's been watching her since they came inside. “Are we beginning with a tour?”

Annette's face shows no amusement. Her jade eyes narrow, scrutinizing Elyse. “ _You_ shall begin by taking off my cloak and vest, and then fetching my brandy.”

Elyse quirks an eyebrow, but finds herself nodding. She rather appreciates the straightforward approach. “Glad to, Annette.” Annette's jaw seems to tense a bit at this, but she says nothing. Elyse wastes no time in taking off Annette's hat and cloak. After hanging them on a hook by the door, she unbuttons Annette's vest, then steps behind her to pull it off her shoulders. Annette lets out a tired little sigh.

“The brandy is in the desk in the study,” she says, with a disinterested wave of her hand to the right. “Be a dear.” With that, she saunters off to the room to the left.

Elyse glances off to the study, grabbing a lit lantern from its hook near the door, when Annette calls out from the other room:

“And take off those rags you call an overcoat, would you?”

With her coat and hat hung on the peg beside Annette's, Elyse pushes open the ajar door to the study. An ornate desk dominates the room, longer across than she is tall, made of sturdy mahogany. On top of it sits a long metal rod with a spiraled copper brush attached to its end. Beside that, a horsehair brush, an old rag, worn with oil stains, sitting next to a small capped bottle. She rolls open the bottom drawer – the only one not locked – and picks up a crystal decanter, filled nearly to the top with an amber liquid.

She pours into a snifter sitting on the chiffonier by the wall, then takes a quick drink from the bottle for herself. The sweet, rich nectar of peach lingers on her tongue. Glass in one hand, bottle in the other, she returns to Annette in the fainting room.

“Bloody well took you long enough.” Annette clicks her tongue, looking up at Elyse with disapproval from her seat on the rocaille chaise longue. She's already made herself comfortable, leaning into its angled backrest, one leg stretched out across it, the other booted foot resting on the ground. Her gloves sit neatly on the table beside the chaise. She runs a hand through her shoulder-length hair, pulled free from its loose bun, and extends her other hand expectantly.

Elyse opts to stay silent, slipping the stem of the glass between Annette's first two fingers, and setting the decanter on the end table beside her.

Her eyes closed, Annette sniffs at the glass before taking a sip. “Ah. So much better than that swill down at the tavern.”

“Yes, the tavern.” Elyse clears her throat, unsure if Annette is even paying attention to her, or if she's too absorbed in her drink to listen. “What brought you down there amongst the rabble?”

A smirk pricks at the corner of her lips. “I think we both know why I was there. And why you're here now.” She takes a slow drink, her gaze focused all the while on Elyse.

Elyse takes in a slow breath, finding herself wanting for her hat. She can tell her eyes are betraying her as she studies Annette's face. Clearly Annette can tell it too: as she lowers her glass, her lips slowly part in a predatory grin, revealing a row of straight white teeth. Elyse dimly finds herself wondering how many people have seen that same calculating look in Annette's eyes, from the wrong end of her musket barrel.

“Now.” Annette sits up straight, setting her feet on the ground in front of her. “Be a darling, and get down on your knees.”

Elyse stands rooted to the spot, replaying Annette's words in her head, sure she must have misheard.

Her inaction seems to wear on Annette's patience, as she raises an expectant eyebrow. The amused look falls off her face, her upper lip curling in a sneer. “Don't make me repeat myself.”

Taking a slow breath, Elyse lowers herself to her knees onto the hardwood floor, sitting back on the heels of her boots. She dips her chin and looks up at Annette, who sits up straight, rolls her head from side to side, then heaves a heavy sigh. She strokes her chin, a satisfied smirk playing its way over her lips, occluded by the tips of her slender fingers.

“Maybe this will go more smoothly than I thought.” She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, then sighs. “Normally I would choose somebody a bit more inclined to deference, but I've a dearth of options in this wretched slum. The heiress, I think, is pliant enough to bend to my whims, but frankly she doesn't have the time to tend to my needs. And I certainly don't have the patience to wear down that young nun. Which is something of a shame. All those years of pent-up lascivious desire...” Annette seems to drift off, stroking her thumb along her jawline, then shakes her head. “As for the others, fie. Even if they weren't so belligerent, they're not fit to lick my boots.”

Elyse takes a slow gulp, her eyes flickering down to Annette's black leather boots. At least she seems to have cleaned them after her trip last week to the weald. She clears her throat to speak, but Annette continues.

“You, though...” She props an elbow on her knee, cupping her chin on top of her palm. “You carry a certain air of respectability. And while I certainly know you can be...” She purses her lips, regarding Elyse much in the way she might regard a mangy dog. “... _feisty_... I think you can be broken of those habits.”

“I suppose you expect gratitude that you deign to invite me into your home?” Elyse meets Annette's eyes, challenging her with an unblinking gaze.

“Hmm.” The noise starts off as a contemplative hum, then extends out into a barely audible chuckle. Annette's lips smack lightly as they part, and she sinks her teeth into the bowline of her lower lip. “Oh, Elyse... don't you understand?”

She slides forward in her seat, leaning towards Elyse, looming over her. Elyse starts to lean back, but Annette reaches out and grabs tightly to the jabot on Elyse's blouse and yanks her forward, keeping her grip firm, and her mouth inches away from Elyse's face. She speaks, low and sharp.

“By the time the prey finally sees the wolf, it is _much_ too late to run away.”

Elyse slowly inhales as Annette's warm breath wafts over her face. The sneer on Annette's lips slowly fades into a sinister grin, and she abruptly releases her grip. She once again straightens up, inspecting her fingernails with pursed lips before looking down past her hand at Elyse, her eyes narrowed. Elyse settles back, sitting on her ankles, her pulse hammering in her neck.

She supposes she could stand up and walk out right now. But something about Annette's imposing presence entices her, wills her to stay. Annette claims to have marked her as her prey for some time, but Elyse had taken notice of her a while back in kind, commanding and maddeningly enticing. Perhaps she should take offense to being referred to as little more than a trophy, but she doesn't. On the contrary, she feels a stirring energy inside her, taking Annette's advance less as an imposition, and more of an invitation. Perhaps a challenge. As if she were asking her if she is ready to play.

And Elyse is ready to play.

Annette's eyes brush over Elyse's shoulders as she relaxes them, then meet Elyse's gaze as she looks up at her. “Made up your mind, have you?”

Elyse leans forward, placing her palms flat on the ground, letting a wicked smirk cross her lips. She keeps her head up, challenging Annette with a hard stare. “If you think I'll just roll over for you, Annette, then—”

Elyse yelps as a hard pressure bears down on the fingers on her left hand. She doubles over, lowering her head next to Annette's boot, its heel planted firmly on top of her fingers. “Let's start with some ground rules,” Annette says firmly, ignoring Elyse's pained groans. “First, you will _not_ refer to me by name. You may call me _Mistress_ , or _My Lady_. Perhaps _Queen_ if you're feeling particularly obsequious. Understood?”

Gritting her teeth with her forehead pressed against the hardwood floor, Elyse nods. “Ngggh, yes!” Annette's heel grinds down, crushing her fingers harder, and she lets out a pained howl. “Yes, Mistress, I understand!”

The weight on her fingers eases up, and Elyse takes a slow breath, waiting for Annette's next rule, still acutely aware of the light pressure of the thick heel of the boot resting on top of her fingers. “You will breathe none of this to anyone. If I catch wind that you loosened your tongue about us, you will rue the day you were born.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Elyse nods again, turning her head to the side and resting her cheek against the hardwood. “I understand.”

“Your time belongs to me, now. After I finish a contract for the heiress, I expect you to be here waiting for me. Do I make myself clear?”

Gritting her teeth through the steady weight of Annette's boot, Elyse nods and growls out a quick, “Yes, Mistress.”

She sighs in relief as Annette takes her boot off her fingers. She cradles them in her other hand, squeezing and rubbing the throbbing pain away. She slowly straightens up again, hoping she's hiding the smirk threatening to spread over her lips. She hadn't expected Annette to be quite so... _forceful_.

“Now. Take off your blouse, for your impudence.” Annette sits back and crosses her right leg over her left, then refills her glass of brandy.

A flush of heat spreads through Elyse's neck. “As you wish, Mistress.” She starts with her fingerless gloves, unlacing them enough to slip them off her forearms. Next, she unbuttons her blouse. Annette sips from her snifter, scrutinizing eyes roaming over Elyse's shoulders as she shrugs off her shirt and tosses it, with the gloves, under the table to Annette's side.

After taking a slow drink, Annette nods. “Those will have to go, too,” she says, eyeing the slip and underbodice clinging to Elyse's body.

Elyse nods, heat rising through her cheeks as she unlaces the front of the bodice, exhaling as the tension on her waist releases. Once it's sufficiently loose, she untucks the loose fabric from the waistline of her trousers and pulls both undergarments off, over her head, then sets them beside her shirt.

Annette grins broadly, studying Elyse's body as she sips away at her glass, seemingly content to let Elyse sit at her feet for a while, exposed. She gulps back the rest of the brandy, then raises her right leg and puts her foot on Elyse's left shoulder. “Lick my boot.”

Annette watches her expectantly, her eyebrows arched upward, thumb absentmindedly stroking the sharp line of her jaw. Elyse bows her head, clears her throat, and studies the sheen on Annette's boot. It rests dangerously close to her face. Elyse can't help but imagine how much it would hurt if Annette were to kick her for disobeying her orders. She gulps as she notices Annette straightening up, looming over her, eyes glowing wickedly.

“Oh, spare me the hesitant act,” Annette murmurs, a low growl to her voice. She reaches her right hand forward, her fingertips grazing over the skin on Elyse's waist before brushing the swell of her breast. “I can tell you're... _excited_.” She brushes her thumb deftly over the stiffened peak of Elyse's nipple, drawing from her a light gasp.

Elyse leans in and drags her tongue along the inside of Annette's boot, almost a reflex from the touch of her thumb on her skin. She forces herself not to recoil at the sour taste of old boot polish. Once her tongue reaches the toe, she takes in a breath and rests her cheek against the side of the boot. For good measure, she kisses the side of the toe box.

Annette flashes a wry smile at her, and slowly sets her boot down on the floor. “You know, I like you better when you're quiet.”

She sees a sadistic glint in Annette's eyes, no doubt at the shadow of a sneer that Elyse let cross her face. She knows she shouldn't retort. She knows Annette is challenging her to say something, and she'll pay dearly for her insubordination if she does. But something about that cocky upward twist to Annette's lip sets off an irritating twinge at the back of Elyse's head.

Elyse flashes a smile, meeting Annette's taunting eyes. Try as she might, she can't fight the temptation to talk back, to see a crack in Annette's domineering act.

Most of all, she can't fight the temptation to see how Annette will punish her for talking back.

She licks her lips. “If you want my obeisance, _Mistress_... you'd better bloody well earn it from me.”

Blood pounding through the arteries in her neck, Elyse takes shallow breaths as she studies Annette's face, the smirk having fallen off of it. Her brows furrow down, just slightly, pale green eyes piercing her from between heavily lined eyelids. Her jaw tenses. Then her upper lip curls in a contemptuous snarl.

The sole of Annette's right boot collides hard with Elyse's sternum, knocking her flat onto her back, thudding the back of her head against the hardwood floor. Dazed, Elyse rasps, struggling for breath against the painful spasming just below her ribs. Before she can collect herself, Annette strides over to her, lowers herself to one knee, then grabs a fistful of her hair and jerks her up to a sitting position. Elyse yelps.

“Strip.”

Elyse's breaths start to even out as she recovers from the kick, the pain still screaming, radiating out where the heel of her boot met her sternum, but a hard crack from Annette's palm across her left cheek snaps her attention to her Mistress.

“Insolent cur. How dare you defy me?”

She slaps Elyse again, then tightens her grip on her hair and pulls her forward.

“Take off your boots. And your trousers. All of it.”

Elyse takes in a breath, keeping her head dipped as she blinks back the tears coaxed out by the exhilarating sting of Annette's hand. She moves her hands for the buckles on her boots, when Annette delivers two more sharp slaps to her left cheek.

“Don't forget your place, pet.”

Elyse clears her throat, relishing the fading sting on her cheek. “Yes, Mistress.”

Satisfied, Annette lets go of Elyse's hair and stands up.

Elyse unbuckles and removes her boots, then unfastens her belt and pulls it out of the loops of her trousers. The small satchels on her right hip, as well as the two sheathed daggers on her left, all thump onto the floor. As she undoes her trousers, Annette kicks Elyse's boots aside, then crosses her arms over her chest, tapping her fingers expectantly. Elyse sighs, takes off her pants and underclothes together, then slides her socks off, and tosses them all aside, towards her blouse, by the chaise.

Annette paces a slow circle around Elyse. She brings a hand to her chin, brushing her bottom lip with her thumb as her eyes roam over Elyse's nude body. Elyse feels the heat of hunger in Annette's faded green stare, and Elyse suddenly feels as if she is a wounded deer, finally succumbing to the blood loss, and Annette is the wolf that has been tirelessly hunting her, awaiting a feast. “That's better. Now, on your feet.”

Elyse chews on her bottom lip and slowly stands up, looking up to meet Annette's stare, their slight height difference now exaggerated by Annette's boots.

“I do hope you amused yourself with your defiant mouth,” Annette says, a sneer curling her lip. “I ought to trample you into the mud.”

Elyse feels the corners of her mouth curling up. This is more like it. This assertive air suits Annette, serves her rigid posture, her sharp, stern features. This is a woman who is used to getting what she wants when she asks for it, and will suffer no insubordination. Elyse reaches out to touch Annette's left hand. “I—”

Before she can get another word out, Annette cracks her across the face with the back of her hand. “I don't recall giving you permission to touch me!”

Elyse raises her hand to her throbbing cheek and nods. “Of course. I'm sorry, Mistress.”

Annette's fingers clamp onto Elyse's ear. She pulls her in, hissing, “You have not yet _begun_ to know penitence.”

Seizing a handful of Elyse's hair, Annette turns Elyse away from her. Her heavy boot finds the back of Elyse's left knee and steps down, forcing her onto her knees. Firm hands grab onto Elyse's shoulders, squeezing her muscles, thumbs digging in near the base of her neck.

“But don't worry...” Annette leans down, her lips brushing against Elyse's right ear. “I will take _great_ pleasure in breaking you.”

Before Elyse can even catch her breath at the gentle touch of Annette's full lips on her ear, Annette shoves her down. She catches herself on her palms, and the pressure on the back of her left leg builds as Annette steps forward, her right foot coming to rest on the small of Elyse's back. With a grunt, Annette thrusts her foot down, forcing Elyse flat onto her stomach, her hands splayed on the ground by her shoulders.

Elyse lets out a groan as Annette's weight transfers forward, bearing down on the small of her back. The corners of her boot's wide heel bite sharply into her skin. The heel of her other boot steps down into the long muscle of Elyse's back, just to the inside of her shoulder blade, then flattens out over the toe. Elyse lets out a long moan and lays her right cheek flat against the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the wicked grin painted onto Annette's lips.

Her weight shifts forward still, her right boot leaving the small of Elyse's back. The realization of what's about to happen strikes Elyse a long second before she actually sees the shadow of Annette's boot loom over her head.

The thick heel of Annette's boot presses down on the edge of Elyse's jaw and on the side of her neck. The crushing weight rolls forward, the toe of her boot bearing down on the side of her head, behind her temple. Elyse growls through grit teeth as Annette balances herself, her weight shifting back and forth, crushing, grinding, until slowly, agonizingly, the pressure eases up as she steps down off of her. Elyse relaxes into the ground, panting, her back throbbing, her head splitting.

As her breathing slows, a feeling of lightness starts to wash over Elyse's body. The hard pressure of Annette's heel on her jaw is now a dull echo rolling down her spine, and she's left with a pleasant buzzing in her head that seems to make the room spin just slightly, seems to make Annette looming over her seem that much more imposing.

Annette's heel thumps demonstratively against the ground, and Elyse picks up her head, just enough to glimpse Annette's scornful gaze out of the corner of her eye. “Submit to me,” Annette growls.

Elyse lets out a derisive snort and slowly gathers herself to her hands and knees.

“No?” Annette chuckles. “Good. Wouldn't want to break you when we're just _starting_ to have fun.”

Annette grabs Elyse by the hair at the base of her neck and pulls up. Elyse yelps, scrambling forward on her hands and knees as Annette pulls her alongside her. She shoves Elyse onto the chaise, and Elyse leans into its seat, hands splayed flat on the cushion. “Stay there.”

Elyse feels the shifting of the floorboards beneath her as Annette paces from side to side just behind her, her bootfalls slow and deliberate. Elyse's breaths become shallow, in anticipation of Annette's next move. She aches with desire, for the warmth of Annette's palm, the crack of the back of her hand, or the hard sole of her boot.

The floorboards creak as Annette stands directly behind Elyse, the heel of her right boot resting gently atop Elyse's toes, threatening to bear down at any second. Annette leans over, placing her hands on the cushion, just outside of Elyse's. She lays her thumbs on the back of Elyse's hands, and Elyse relaxes at the touch of her warm skin sliding over her own.

“I want you to scream for me, pet,” Annette murmurs. Elyse twitches at the fine texture of Annette's pants brushing against her back. Annette's knee rests against her, just to the left of her spine.

Elyse wants to scream for her, too. But she won't... not until Annette forces it out of her.

Elyse starts to turn her head to look up at Annette, but Annette grabs a fistful of her hair at the base of her neck and shoves her face down into the cushion. Annette shifts her weight back, onto her right heel. The pressure bears down onto Elyse's first three toes, crushing them between the boot and the floor. Elyse lets out a groan that slowly tails out into a whimper.

Annette clicks her tongue, disappointed.

She pushes down on Elyse's head, stepping back, and Elyse takes in a relieved breath as the crushing pressure on her toes is released.

“You _will_ scream for me.” The floor creaks once again beneath Elyse's legs, and a light metallic jingling accompanies the groaning of the hardwood. “Sooner or later.”

A feather-light sensation tickles the skin on Elyse's back, just above her waist. She takes in a light gasp, her back arching. It travels up along her spine, slowly, lazily, its gentle caress lulling her into relaxation.

“Hopefully later.”

The light caress on her back vanishes as Annette takes a half step back.

 _Swish_.

Elyse flinches as long strap of leather bites across her back, just under her shoulder blade, leaving a dull sting in its wake.

A second crack mirrors the first, slapping on her left side. A third, a fourth, a fifth, strike her right shoulder, then across her ribs, then dead center on her spine. A low rumble sits at the back of her throat as she clenches her teeth, her skin still warm from the blows.

Annette lets the end of Elyse's belt drag slowly down her spine, before swinging her arm wide. The leather tongue lashes over Elyse's ass, hitting her right cheek square on. Elyse throws her head back and groans. Each lick from the belt leaves a dull throb on her bare skin, and with each strike, Annette seems to grow more enthusiastic, striking her harder and harder. Elyse closes her eyes, picturing the spreading grin on Annette's lips as her amusement grows with her own pain.

Another strike, again mirroring the last. Elyse dips her chin down, digging her fingertips into the cushion of the chaise. She lets out a moan, relishing the sting as it fades to a pleasant warm sensation lingering on her skin.

“What was that, pet?” She can hear the grin on Annette's face in the amused tone to her voice.

Elyse bites her bottom lip, wondering if she'd let out the _yes_ she'd been thinking.

“Something the matter? Not sassing me with that silver tongue of yours?”

Elyse lets a grin flash over her lips. The things she could do to Annette with her tongue...

The metallic jingle again clinks in the air as the prong of her belt rattles against the frame. The cold rounded edge of the brass-coated buckle brushes against the base of Elyse's spine. She flinches, then gulps.

“Ohhh,” Annette lets out a low chuckle, “I can see you tensing up already. Well if you know what's coming, you know it'll be easier for you if you just _relax_.”

Elyse takes in a slow breath. Easy for her to say. The prong clicks and rattles ominously, swinging from one side to the other, rhythmically. A pendulum, marking the seconds to her next lashing. She closes her eyes, trying to release the tension built in her shoulders, her toes curling with anticipation.

The first blow from the buckle hurts more intensely than she was prepared for. Hard metal bites deep into her back, just to the inside of her left shoulderblade. Despite her efforts to choke it back, a groan spills out of her lips, the pain pulsing in the wake of the buckle, focused on that singular spot, no bigger than the width of her thumb, throbbing and gnawing as proof of Annette's power over her. Before it can start to dull, Annette strikes her again, just below the first hit, this one landing even harder, biting even deeper. Elyse digs her blunted fingernails into the rough fabric of the seat. She sucks in a deep breath through her teeth, then lets it out in a shuddering sigh. Tears start to form at the corners of her eyes.

“Scream for me.”

Annette whips her again, the buckle digging into her side, just below her ribs. The stinging seems to subside more quickly than the first two, no doubt since it struck her where there was no hard bone underneath.

Annette lashes her on her left side three times in quick succession, drawing out pained little gasps from Elyse as the buckle digs into her flesh. The biting slowly fades into a persistent throb, and she eases forward into the chaise, releasing a bit of tension from her back as a light, foggy sensation starts to take hold of her, starting at the back of her head and trickling its way down her spine.

She throws her head back as the side of the buckle digs into her right side, just at the bottom of her ribcage. She sucks in a breath through her nose, and exhales through her mouth. Annette then strikes her flush on the ass, once, twice, three times on her left cheek, letting out a short exhale with each blow. Elyse sinks down into the chaise, leaning back into the floggings. An effusive moan spills out of her lips.

With a forceful grunt, Annette brings the side of the belt buckle crashing down hard into Elyse's back, just to the right of her spine. The metal bites hard and deep into her skin, and she throws her head back lets out a scream. “ _Ohhhh_ Annette!”

Elyse slowly opens her eyes, each bite of the buckle still ringing out in pain. Her eyes widen as she realizes why Annette stopped.

Her voice is a dagger, hushed and sharp. “ _What_ did you just say?”

Elyse straightens up, and as soon as she can blurt out a “Mis—”, Annette seizes her by the hair and drags her away from the chaise. Elyse flails helplessly, pushing herself along the floor with her legs to alleviate some of the tension on her scalp. After dragging her a few feet, Annette twists her around and sits Elyse on her knees. Leaning her head back into Annette's grip, Elyse finds herself face-to-face with her own reflection.

The oak-framed mirror stands in the corner of the room, displaying Elyse's nude body in all her shame. A few red marks stand out on her waist, where the belt wrapped around and bit into her skin. Annette stands tall and rigid behind her, with her feet set astride Elyse's legs. Her right hand holds firm on Elyse's hair, her knuckles resting on her scalp. The belt dangles from her left hand, the brass buckle tapping against the outside of Elyse's thigh as it sways in the air. A snake, ready to strike.

“Perhaps I didn't make myself clear earlier.”

Elyse stares up at Annette's eyes in the mirror, but Annette's gaze is focused on the top of Elyse's head.

“You are here under one condition.” Annette releases her grip on Elyse's hair, then gently smooths it out over her head and down her back. She tucks a loose strand behind Elyse's ear, then gives her a firm pat on the cheek, meeting her eyes in the mirror. Her wrathful gaze makes Elyse feel small, helpless, insignificant. “Your complete subservience to me.”

Annette takes the buckle in her right hand. She turns it over, inspecting the worn leather, the shiny worn spot where the clasp meets the center of the frame. She feeds the end of the belt through the buckle, making a large loop.

Chin still tilted down towards her chest, Annette glances back up at Elyse's reflection, eyes flashing with sadistic intent.

“What was my first rule, pet?”

Elyse's heart beats hard and fast under Annette's stare. “I am not to address you by name, Mistress.”

“Hm. So you do remember.”

Annette adjusts her grip on the belt. Holding it by the tail end, she drops the loop over Elyse's head, then pulls, tightening it just enough so that the leather wraps around Elyse's neck snugly. Elyse finds her breath quickening all the same. She can feel her pulse pounding through her neck, the sensation compounded by the firm embrace of the belt.

“Your dagger. Down by your knee. Give it to me.”

Elyse blinks, noticing the glint of the rounded pommel in the mirror. She leans down, as much as Annette allows her, the thick edge of the leather belt digging up slightly in to her neck as she leans to her side. She picks it up by its sheathe, holding it at chest height, anticipation building with each beat of her hammering heart. She is loathe to let anyone else handle her blades. Let alone the woman with her throat in a vise.

Annette jerks her arm back a few inches. The belt cinches around Elyse's neck. She takes in a gasp, a struggle as it is.

“Give. It. To me.”

Elyse lets out a strangled exhale and holds the dagger up. Annette grabs the handle of the dagger in her left hand and pulls it out of the sheathe. She rolls it deftly between her fingertips, the low candlelight bouncing off the polished blade. Her lips slowly curl into a sadistic, toothy grin, and she slowly moves the dagger in towards Elyse's face, until the sharp tip of the blade presses into the soft flesh of her cheek, to the outside of the corner of her mouth. Elyse winces, keeping her head as still as possible. She knows full well how sharp that blade is.

Annette brings her right hand in, still firmly gripping the end of the belt, and brushes Elyse's cheek with her thumb. “You disappoint me, pet.”

Elyse's bottom lip trembles as Annette's thumb strokes it. Her gaze switches between the glint of the dagger in Annette's left hand, and the tail end of her belt in her right. “I'm sorry, Mistress. I—”

“I don't need you to be sorry,” Annette snaps. “I need you to be _better_.”

Elyse gulps. The tip of the dagger digs ever so slightly deeper into her cheek. She tilts her head away from it to compensate. “I'll be better, Mistress, I promise. I won't disappoint you again.”

“Oh,” Annette says, a mad glint dancing in her eyes as she lays her right hand flat on Elyse's cheek, “I know you won't.”

The point of the dagger just barely kissing her skin, Annette drags it slowly up over her cheek. Elyse clenches her teeth and winces, barely keeping herself from flinching as the razor-sharp tip of the dagger cuts into her skin, leaving a sharp stinging in its wake. Blood drips slowly in ribbons from the curved, shallow cut, deep maroon standing stark against her fair skin. Annette pulls the dagger away from her face and lets it clatter to the ground, discarded.

Annette's wolfish grin widens. The end of the belt wrapped once around her right hand, she pulls her arm back. The leather wraps tightly around Elyse's throat. Struggling for air, she raises her hands up for the belt instinctively. Her fingertips touch where the leather meets her neck, but she lets them drop back to her sides as her gaze finds Annette's in the mirror, stern and heated. There is no use in fighting. Annette's orders were simple, and she deserves to be punished for disobeying her. The cut on her face will stand as a reminder of her defiance, a mark of Annette's dominion over her.

Annette tugs a bit tighter, and the leather sinks harder into her skin. A sharp biting pain shoots in her neck as her skin is pinched between the moving metal parts of the buckle. She tries to let out a gasp, but can't push any air out.

She watches herself in the mirror, helplessly, as her complexion starts to redden. Annette lets out a low chuckle as she traces her left index finger down over Elyse's cheek, smearing the dripping blood over her cheek and her jaw. Her finger trails onto Elyse's lips. A look at Annette's sanguine smile in the mirror tells Elyse enough. She parts her lips and sucks clean Annette's reddened finger, desperately wanting to taste Annette's skin but only getting the bitter metallic tang of her own blood.

Annette draws her finger away from Elyse's mouth, letting her hand drop to her side. The bite of the leather around her neck loosens, and Elyse takes in a deep breath, the sudden intake of air straining her lungs. She leans forward a bit, her chin drooping towards her chest. Her chest heaves as she tries to gather her composure.

Before she can recover, she feels the hard leather of the sole of Annette's boot press lightly against the center of her back. Annette pushes down, and Elyse bends down at her hips, straightening her arms out in front of her and laying her palms flat on the ground. She shifts her weight between her hands and her knees, trying to find the least stressful position, when the belt constricts around her throat again, pulling her head back, forcing her to look in the mirror.

Annette's teeth glisten in the reflection as she presses her foot down, digging her heel into the small of Elyse's back. Elyse braces herself against Annette's boot. She lets out a pained wheeze, and she feels a popping sensation in her sternum as the insistent pull of the belt stretches her backwards. The belt constricts tighter around her neck, and as she soundlessly struggles and gulps for air, she reaches her right hand up to her neck, trying to dig her fingertips underneath the belt. Her own face grows redder and redder. Annette watches her with an amused grin, her eyes sparking with sadistic glee.

She lets out a low chuckle. “Oh, I do love seeing you fight it.”

Annette once more releases the tension on the belt. With a powerful thrust of her leg, she stomps Elyse flat onto her stomach. Elyse takes in a deep, ragged breath. Her chest heaves and aches as she tries to slow her breathing. Her pulse pounds through her neck, in her temple, her head thudding with each beat. She turns her gaze forward, towards the mirror once more. Lying prone on the floor, she can no longer see her own reflection, just Annette, her Mistress, standing over her, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, reveling in her torment.

The pressure on her back releases, the bite of Annette's boot fading into a dull ache, rippling out in waves from the pressure point. As Elyse takes in a few deep, grateful, unencumbered breaths, the echo of the pain on her back gives way to a pleasant, warming afterglow.

Annette doesn't leave her long to appreciate it. She steps forward, her left boot coming to rest an inch away from Elyse's left cheek. Her right boot presses on the small of Elyse's back. The pressure builds as Annette crouches down, then the hard point of her knee bears down between Elyse's shoulder blades, just to the right of her spine. With the belt slack around her neck, Elyse sucks in a pained gasp, struggling under Annette's weight.

Annette bares her teeth in a snarl – or maybe a malicious grin – as she cinches the belt tight around her neck. Elyse lets out a sickly wheeze as she struggles for air, and Annette jerks the belt tighter. Elyse tries to let out a whimper, but can't get it out of her chest. She slaps her right hand against the hardwood, curling her fingers slowly into a fist. She tries to stay focused on Annette's reflection in the mirror, fighting as hard as she can through the haze overtaking her.

Just as the edges of her vision start to fade, and the room starts to spin around her, and her head starts to drop to the floor, Annette loosens the belt. Elyse takes in a shaky, wheezing breath, the singular point of agonizing pressure under Annette's knee only outdone by the sharp, burning pain in her sides that each breath causes her.

Annette reaches down with her left hand, sliding her fingers between the belt and Elyse's neck, and pulls the tongue of the belt back out through the buckle, and off of her neck. She stands up and tosses it aside, taking a few paces back and forth as Elyse takes in a few more raspy breaths, each one less a struggle than the last.

The sharp pain in Elyse's ribs starts to fade out of her mind as she is hit by a rush of tranquility, a soothing sensation of calm that cracks lightly over her head and oozes down the length of her body, as slow as honey and as warm as blood. With each breath she feels lighter, until she seems to float on the floor. Annette's dull bootfalls echo somewhere far off; Elyse barely processes the floor thudding and shifting beneath her with each step.

Annette lets out an amused hum, that only cuts through the pleasant buzz in Elyse's head when she digs the toe of her boot under her shoulder and nudges her over onto her back. She looks down at Elyse through narrowed, scrutinizing eyes. Elyse offers her a lazy grin in return.

She watches as Annette slowly raises her right boot over her, then lowers it. Even if Elyse had the energy to struggle, she wouldn't. The shank of Annette's boot comes to rest lightly on her throat, the front edges of her thick heel digging into the other side of her neck. Elyse takes in a slow, deep breath, then lets it out in a controlled exhale. The steady beat of her pulse in her neck, constricted as it is by Annette's heel, thuds dully through her head.

The pressure stays steady on Elyse's neck. Firm, but well light enough for her to breathe. Annette tilts her head a bit to the side, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. A playful grin adorns her lips. Elyse takes in shallow breaths, waiting for the pressure to start building, waiting for that crushing pain, for the delirious light-headedness that will follow it, the rubbery feeling that will wash over her in the aftermath. Annette just stands there, studying Elyse, the suggestion of a smile playing at her lips.

Elyse lets out a weak chuckle. She understands now. “Mistress. Push down. I need you to press your boot down. Please.”

Annette's lips part in a vicious grin, and with a slow movement of her leg, the pressure on Elyse's throat builds, squeezing the air out of her body.

Shutting her eyes, she raises her hands and places them on Annette's boot, making no effort to push her off, instead stroking the leather beneath her thumbs. Even through the oxygen-deprived haze that is beginning to overtake her, she is all too aware that all it would take is a simple whim from Annette, and with a powerful drive of her thigh, she could snap her neck.

The only thing stopping her from doing just that, Elyse supposes, is the more pressing desire to see her lying on the ground, completely broken, completely obedient.

Her chest burns, every airless gasp feeling like like a vise squeezing tighter around her. And every second without tasting the air, she grows more lightheaded, more weightless.

A weak grin spreads over Elyse's lips,

Elyse cracks open her eyes to the room swimming in her periphery. Annette leans over, a deranged grin spread over her lips. She lets out a low laugh. “Have I earned your obeisance _now_?”

She lifts her boot off Elyse's throat, and Elyse takes in a long and trembling breath. Rolling over onto her stomach, she bursts into a coughing fit, each one feeling like a dagger between her ribs. She takes in several slow breaths, holding a hand to her stomach, just beneath her sternum. Slowly, the sharp pain fades, allowing her to breathe more deeply, more steadily. Each breath slows her pulse, and soon, that delirious fog starts to take hold in her head once more.

Her limbs like jelly and her head cradled in a blissful haze, Elyse lets herself sink into the floor.

The hardwood floor is cool and relaxing against her sweat-misted forehead. It takes her a moment to realize the thudding in her head wasn't just her blood pounding through her veins, but Annette's bootfalls as she walks back to the chaise and sits down, crossing her right leg over her left. “Come over here, pet. If you've the strength for it.”

Elyse lets out a low chuckle and starts moving towards Annette, somewhere between crawling and dragging herself over. Annette pays her no attention as she unlaces her right boot and pulls it off, setting it down at the floor by the end of the couch.

Annette raises her eyebrows as Elyse drags herself over to her, her elbows propped beneath her, a lazy smile on her lips.

“I have your obeisance,” Annette says, with a slight tilt of her head. It doesn't quite come out as a question.

Elyse's smile widens. “You have my obeisance, Mistress.”

The corners of Annette's mouth curl up in an amused grin. “I hurt you because you deserve it.”

Elyse gulps, her mouth feeling dry. “You hurt me because I deserve it, Mistress.”

Nodding, Annette lets her fingertips trail down over Elyse's cheek. “You are utterly devoted to me.”

Elyse nods back, bowing her head. “I am utterly devoted to you, Mistress.”

Annette's lips part as she takes in a breath. “Good.” She sighs, then slides off her sock and tosses it to the ground beside her boot. “Lick my foot, pet.”

Elyse's gaze moves from Annette's face down her leg, to her toes, slowly flexing back as she rotates her ankle. She presses her lips together. “Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

Elyse props her weight on her right elbow, laying her left hand on top of Annette's foot and rubbing her skin. She leans in, inhaling the strong tang of leather mixed with sweat. Her cheek brushing against the side of Annette's foot, she sticks out her tongue and presses it flat into Annette's heel. She tilts her head and licks slowly up her skin, following the inward curve of the arch, then over the ball of her foot to her big toe, which she greets with a kiss.

Amused, Annette raises an eyebrow and traces over Elyse's lips with her toe. Elyse closes her eyes, savoring the sensation. “Again,” she says, pressing her heel to Elyse's mouth.

Elyse keeps her gaze focused on Annette's eyes as she licks up the length of the outside of her foot, up to her smallest toe. She slides the tip of her tongue in a small circle over it, then licks all her toes with one slow sweep of her tongue. Annette presses her lips together, and Elyse hides the grin playing over her face by pressing her lips to the ball of Annette's foot and laying kiss after kiss on her skin. Annette leans back in the chaise, one hand resting on her knee, the other undoing the buttons on her shirt.

Annette takes in a deep breath. Elyse lets out a satisfied hum to herself, parting her lips to lay a wet kiss on Annette's big toe. She relishes the deep rise and fall of Annette's chest, partially exposed from behind her unbuttoned blouse. This is the closest she has come to having any semblance of control over Annette, and she plans on taking advantage of it as long as Annette will allow her the indulgence.

Elyse dips and tilts her head, opening her mouth to suck on Annette's heel. She props herself on her elbows, cradling Annette's ankle in her hands as she grazes her teeth over the hard curve of her heel. Annette shuts her eyes, and Elyse allows herself a full smile as she kisses and nips her way up the length of Annette's foot. She kisses her big toe on its tip, then slides it between her lips, sucking, sliding her tongue back and forth over her skin. Annette lets out a satisfied hum, and Elyse tilts her head to slide Annette's second toe into her mouth, sliding her tongue around them, between them.

Annette slides her toes out of Elyse's mouth, and Elyse looks up to see a devious glimmer in Annette's eyes. “Good girl.”

Elyse feels a smile spreading over her lips. She dips her chin down, surprised at the heat building in her cheeks and the hardened gallop of her heartbeat in response to the praise. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Annette uncrosses her legs, stretching her left foot forward, lifting it off the ground. Elyse unlaces her boot, slides it off, sets it beside the other, then rolls off her sock. She lays a kiss on the tip of each of her toes, keeping her eyes locked on Annette's amused gaze.

Pushing herself to her knees, Elyse kisses over the top of Annette's foot, then slides her cheek up over her fine trousers, to her hands resting clasped on her knee, kissing them once, slowly, reverently. She rests her right hand on Annette's hands, working the knuckles on her left hand in slow circles into the arch of Annette's foot. She turns her hungry gaze up to the coy smile on Annette's lips, then down the long slope of her neck to the pit by her collarbone, exposed from underneath her shirt. She licks her lips, aching to pull her shirt further back, take it off, to feel more of Annette's skin underneath her own.

The longing in Elyse's gaze burns deeper as Annette pulls her shirt off, shrugging it off her shoulders and out from underneath the waistline of her trousers, exposing her corset and black silken chemise underneath. She sets the blouse on the armrest of the chaise. Elyse slides her hand up Annette's arm, savoring the soft skin and firm muscle beneath her hand. She licks her lips and gulps, her mouth feeling drier by the minute.

Annette places her left hand on the chaise and pushes off to stand up. Elyse sinks down to sit back on her ankles, staring up at Annette's confident smirk. Annette turns around. Elyse's eyes trail down the round metal grommets of her corset to the knotted lacing at the small of her back. She lays her hands on the outsides of Annette's thighs and leans in, clamping her teeth on one of the loose tails of the knot and pulling. Annette sighs as the knot falls loose, and Elyse slides her hands up over Annette's hips, loosening the lacing. Annette turns around, guiding Elyse's hands to unclasp the busks running down the middle of the corset. Elyse pulls the two sides apart, setting it on the couch as she leans in and brushes her right cheek – ever mindful of the blood on her left – against Annette. The smooth silk of her chemise glides over Elyse's face, impossibly light. Annette's hand, nearly as light and smooth as the silk, strokes over Elyse's head, smoothing over her hair. Elyse sighs, almost ready to melt at the tenderness of her touch, even with the proof of the damage those hands could do still dully ringing on the flesh of her back.

Elyse's hands find Annette's hips, then slide up under her chemise, one finger on each hand slipping on the outside of the fabric to roll it up her body. Leaning back to gaze up at her Mistress, she follows the gentle slope of Annette's hips up to her waist, rubbing her skin with her thumbs, leaning in to kiss just above her trousers, up to her navel. Annette's fingertips graze over Elyse's cheeks, tracing up around the shells of her ears. Elyse raises her hands, sliding off her chemise, and Annette lifts her arms, bowing her head slightly to accommodate Elyse. She leaves it with little regard on the chaise behind her Mistress, too eager to touch her again. She moves her hands to Annette's back, letting her fingertips trail slowly down her warm skin. Annette guides Elyse's face back into her stomach. Elyse needs no instruction, parting her lips to kiss Annette's skin. Annette's hands stroke down the length of Elyse's neck, over her shoulders. Her fingers trail underneath her triceps and cradle her arms, gently guiding her to stand up.

Slowly straightening up, Elyse grazes her lips up the length of Annette's abdomen. She tilts her head to the side, her mouth exploring the curve of Annette's left breast, brushing her lips as lightly as she can over her nipple. She slides her left hand up the center of Annette's chest, barely holding back a satisfied chuckle as she feels the rise and sudden stop of Annette's breath hitching in her throat. Her tongue swirls around its stiffened peak, exploring the smaller bumps around it, and Annette's fingertips dig into Elyse's shoulders.

Elyse kisses a warm trail up Annette's breast to her collarbone, nipping at the skin there stretched taut over bone. Annette's breath hitches in her throat as she lets out an encouraging moan, and Elyse lays more hot, wet kisses at the base of Annette's neck, then slowly up its length, feeling the driving, marching pulse just beneath her lips. She traces its beating with her tongue, up to Annette's jaw, as she raises her left hand to Annette's cheek.

Elyse guides Annette's face to hers and captures her lips in a slow kiss. Annette's chest rises with a surprised gasp, pressing into Elyse, but the tension in her back under Elyse's right hand quickly melts away. Annette steps forward, turning them both as her hand takes a firm grip on the back of Elyse's neck. Annette deepens their kiss, tasting Elyse likes she tastes her brandy: an indulgent pleasure. Her tongue slides into Elyse's mouth, then her teeth sink into the swell of Elyse's bottom lip. Annette's thigh brushes against the outside of Elyse's, her foot rubbing up and down Elyse's calf muscle. Elyse leans into her, greedily tasting her Mistress's lips, her tongue, plunging her hand through her hair.

Then Annette pulls apart from the kiss, and the back of her hand cracks hard against Elyse's cheek. With Annette's leg hooked around the back of her own, Elyse falls back into the chaise, and before she can even process what happened, Annette is kneeling astride her hips, a hand laid on her neck.

“You are an incorrigible one, aren't you?” she hisses, her hand laying a light pressure on Elyse's throat. She moves her other hand over Elyse's face, brushing the tip of her middle finger across her lips.

Elyse flashes her a smile, obscured as it is. “I'm sorry, Mistress. I was... overcome. With passion for you.”

Annette's jade eyes narrow, glinting with malice. “You want to kiss me, hm?”

Annette lowers her other hand to Elyse's throat and squeezes. Elyse takes in a strangled gasp, reveling at the pressure of Annette's hands. She opens her mouth, trying to gulp for air, but Annette's grip is firm, and almighty. She lets her hands fall to Annette's hips. Her head swims. She's not sure if it's from passion or asphyxiation. She's not sure she cares.

“...Then _kiss me_.”

Annette releases her grip on Elyse's throat, and Elyse lets out a cough, then gratefully sucks in a deep breath. Annette takes Elyse's hands in her own and guides them to the front of her trousers. Elyse follows her lead, undoing the row of three buttons down the front. Annette takes Elyse's hands in hers, guiding them to the waistline of her trousers, tucking Elyse's fingertips beneath her knickers. Elyse lets out what she's sure must have been a pathetic moan as Annette pushes her hands down her thighs, sliding off her trousers and undergarments together. Elyse presses her lips together, fixated on the tuft of hair between her legs, the same hue of saffron as the hair hanging down in wavy curtains over her shoulders. Annette slowly sits on the chaise, sliding her clothes off her legs, and Elyse lets herself slide off the couch, sitting on the floor, lowering herself before Annette. She takes firm hold of Annette's hips, leaning in to kiss along the insides of her thighs. Annette lies back, resting her head on the curved cushion of the armrest. Her hand finds the top of Elyse's head and runs back and forth over her scalp, fingers plunging the depths of her hair.

 _Kiss me_.

Elyse brings herself to her knees, leaning in between Annette's legs, prostrating herself for her Mistress's pleasure. She kisses her, slowly — too slowly, apparently, as Annette squeezes a fistful of her hair and tugs it. She flicks out her tongue, quickening her pace. Annette clearly doesn't appreciate being teased. Her thumbs trace over the hard crest of Annette's hip bones. Her fingertips sink into the firm curve of Annette's ass. Her tongue glides over Annette in slow, relaxed strokes.

 _Kiss me_. A command, or a plea?

Annette's chest rises and falls with hushed gasps and trembling exhales. Her left leg hooks around Elyse's body, her heel rubbing a slow path up and down the small of Elyse's back. Elyse keeps pace with its rubbing, sliding her tongue along Annette with firm purpose. Both of Annette's hands are tangled in her hair now, squeezing, urging her on, urging for more pressure, and Elyse obeys, moving her mouth up and laying her tongue flat on Annette, rolling her head back and forth, at the guidance of Annette's hands, firm on the back of her head. She guides a hand between Annette's legs, teasing her with the tip of her index finger with slow strokes, still rolling her tongue in languid strokes, sucking so gently, so lightly, just enough to create gentle pressure with her lips. Annette sinks her teeth into her lower lip, exhaling sharply through her mouth, digging her heel deeper into Elyse's back, one hand gripping hard to the back of Elyse's neck. She slips a finger inside Annette, her flesh warm, wet, compelling, urging. Annette's fist grips tight to Elyse's hair, creating tension on the back of her head. Her hips buck, rising up to meet Elyse's face.

 _Kiss me._ A salacious groan. An encouraging murmur.

Elyse strokes her finger inside Annette, in time with the firm, insistent pulsing of her tongue. Annette's hips shudder underneath Elyse's touch. She swirls her tongue in slow spirals into Annette's skin, building pressure slowly as Annette's grip on her hair tightens. Elyse's passion builds deep in her, below her navel, fed from the lick of her belt on her back, from the tight grip on her throat, from Annette's low moans as she slides a second finger inside of her and curls them both in firm, easy rhythm.

Annette sucks in her breath through her teeth. Elyse feels her muscles clenching, pressure building around her fingers. She keeps sucking, keeps curling her fingers as Annette's body trembles under her, her sighs heavy with longing, wild with ecstasy. Elyse allows herself to look up at Annette's face, glistening with sweat, the skin on either side of her neck flushed. Marveling at how helpless Annette is underneath her touch, Elyse slows the rhythm of her fingers and her mouth, coaxing Annette down gently. Annette's breathing becomes slower and deeper as she runs her hand down over her cheek and her neck. Slowly, the tension leaves Annette's body. The hard pressure of her heel on Elyse's back relaxes. She lets her fingers drop out of Elyse's hair. She relaxes back into the chaise, her breaths finally steady. Elyse straightens up, easing her fingers out of Annette, raising her head to look at her Mistress basking in bliss.

Annette's eyes lazily flutter open. Elyse grins back at her, raising her first two fingers to her mouth and sucking on them, savoring Annette's taste. She lets out a wicked chuckle as her fingers trail out of her mouth. A smirk crosses Annette's face, lazy, but amused.

“Very good, pet,” Annette says, raising her right hand to stroke the hair just above Elyse's ear. Elyse beams, basking in her Mistress's approval. “You have done... so well.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” She dips her head, kissing Annette's stomach just above her navel.

She lays her cheek to Annette's stomach, easing in to the lazy strokes of Annette's hand running over her hair. With the proof of punishment no doubt still standing in red marks on her back, Annette's gentle affection is peculiar and comforting. But all too soon, Annette's hand is firm on her shoulder, guiding her off. Annette sits up, brushing the back of her hand over Elyse's cheek. Elyse flinches. The cut is still tender.

“Now that you've learned your place... maybe next time my discipline won't have to be so intense,” Annette says with a smirk.

Elyse tries to keep a straight face. Her heartbeat gallops at the thought of a next time – though she craves the discipline. The belt squeezing her throat and the light-headed haze it brings. The savage bite of the belt buckle that leaves such a pacifying warmth in its wake. The powerful, wild glint in Annette's eyes as she lays herself beneath her Mistress.

Elyse realizes she must have let out a particularly pathetic whimper when Annette's smirk spreads into a full, demented grin. “But then again... maybe this wasn't enough for you.”

A pleasant warmth spreads over Elyse's cheeks. She nods, unable to express just how right Annette is. Unable also to ignore the tension coiled just beneath her navel. “You have no idea, Mistress.”

Annette's fingers trace along Elyse's jaw. “Don't worry, pet. I'm not _nearly_ done with you.”

Elyse lets a low chuckle roll out of her throat as she turns her head down to kiss Annette's fingers. A pit in her stomach drops as Annette stands up from the couch and walks towards the doorway.

“Wh—” She whirls around, blustering. She can't ignore the insistent yearning just below her navel. “What about me?!”

Annette stops in her tracks, then turns slowly, an eyebrow quirked in a calculating gaze. “What _about_ you?”

Elyse stammers for words, but finds herself lacking under Annette's piercing gaze. She figures she should count herself lucky she isn't getting lashed for speaking out.

“Oh.” Annette's lips curl up, a show of transparently feigned ignorance. “You thought... _I_ would take care of you?”

Chewing her bottom lip, Elyse watches breathlessly, helplessly as Annette walks back over to her, reaching out with her right hand, quelling any further protest by pressing her index finger to Elyse's lips.

And oh, if Annette can leave Elyse so powerless with just one _finger_...

“You haven't earned that pleasure, pet.” She tilts her head to the side and chuckles to herself. “But if you're so _tightly wound_...”

Annette lowers herself back onto the chaise. She lifts her right hand to Elyse's cheek. She traces a finger feather-light over the cut on her skin, then slides her thumb between Elyse's lips, into her mouth. Elyse shuts her eyes, slides her tongue over her thumb, traces the hard curve of her bone.

“Put that hand between your legs... and take care of yourself.”

Elyse grins, grazing her teeth down the length of Annette's thumb. A part of her wants to bite down on it, wants to show her frustration at Annette not satisfying her needs. But, a release is a release... who is she to deny herself of that?

“Yes, Mistress.”


End file.
